


down in the atlantis

by gyeomtriever (yerims)



Series: coco-flavoured dorothy [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: "whose baby?" "his baby" "he has a baby?" "he has a baby", Exes, M/M, On the Run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 04:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21501541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yerims/pseuds/gyeomtriever
Summary: “I—” he starts, and Jinyoung still cannot feel anything. “We,” the man corrects, “we need your help.”
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Series: coco-flavoured dorothy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539619
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	down in the atlantis

“Hunted,” Jinyoung repeats. The word hangs dangerously in the air as if ready to attack.

The child sits still on the barstool Jaebeom had lifted him onto. He hasn’t spoken a word. Jinyoung worries.

“It’s complicated,” Jaebeom says. He doesn’t sound dismissive or annoyed that Jinyoung doesn’t understand. Instead, his voice is only sorrowed. “I’m sorry for appearing so suddenly. I know it’s not—I shouldn’t have—but I didn’t… I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jinyoung stiffly nods. He tries to look for signs of life in the child. Apart from his steady, shallow breaths, he does not move.

“Just…” he sighs, “here.” He pushes the first-aid box over to him. “Let’s clean you up.”

Jaebeom works quietly on the wounds he can reach, while Jinyoung manages those he can’t. He doesn’t flinch at the antiseptic like he used to anymore. Neither does he fidget about restlessly every few minutes.

Jinyoung almost misses it.

Now, everything is still. The only sounds accompanying them come from the jerk of the ceiling fan—and the occasional car that skids past his street. Jinyoung recognises the wounds that came from punches from those which came from weapons. Some look more outdated than others—and he wonders if Jaebeom will tell if he doesn’t ask.

“We won’t stay long,” Jaebeom says instead. “It’s not safe for us or you. We’ll be out of here soon.”

Jinyoung doesn’t respond. It is not what he’d wanted to hear.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Jaebeom looks stricken—he gently tears Jinyoung’s hands off the scrape on his wrist. “After Donghyuck got caught, it wasn’t safe for me to hang around anymore… They have their eyes on me. I had to leave Daegu.”

“You came here.”

“Younghyun told me Seoul was my best bet,” his voice softens. “Until I get out of the country.”

Jinyoung’s breath stops. He stares at Jaebeom dumbly.

“Where are you going to go?”

Jaebeom shrugs and picks at the plaster on his knee. It’s an old habit.

“There are people in Japan who could help me. But they will be there soon as well.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. Japan is predictable—even _he_ knows it is too safe to keep the bad ones away. “You need to go further,” he says. Or he could not go at all. He doesn’t know how to say that, so he doesn’t.

“I… I’ll have to think about us.”

For a split-second, Jinyoung misunderstands. ‘Us’ sounds like an old prayer—a verse of hope, only said in sacred. And once upon a time, ‘us’ was _them._ They had made plans for themselves. Jaebeom was going to get out of the system—and Jinyoung was waiting. They would start a new life together. Love would carry them to universes their obligations couldn’t.

(But it didn’t.)

Then he realises ‘us’ refers to Jaebeom and the kid. Time continues to bristle past.

Of course.

“Kiddo,” Jinyoung distracts himself by bending to look at the boy. “Are you hurt?”

The child stares at him. His eyes are big—and sad. Why is he so sad? He is only a child. Jaebeom's gaze burns into his back.

“You have a cut on your forehead,” Jinyoung says, pointing at his own. “Can you let hyung clean it for you?”

The boy does not speak. He eyes Jinyoung like he has traps waiting. But neither does he move away—if he is afraid, he is just waiting to get hurt. Jaebeom comes over and thumbs the boy’s unruly fringe out of his face. Underneath the black strands, a scrape sits angry and red.

“ _Aish,_ ” Jaebeom curses. “When did this happen? Was it when you fell?” He kneels to blow gently at the wound. Jinyoung tuts and nudges him away. How can he care for a child like that?

“I’ll fix it,” he announces. Jaebeom looks surprised—then sorry. He steps away. As Jinyoung disinfects the cut, Jaebeom picks the grime out of the child’s hair. They are both dirty. Jinyoung realises belatedly that they must have suffered to get here. He hopes he has leftover snacks for the boy, at least.

“Jaebeom,” he frowns. “You should go take a shower. I’ll leave you some clothes on the bed.” He doesn’t include “you know where the bathroom is.”

Fleetingly, Jaebom looks ashamed. Then the icy cover returns—even there when he is desperate. He nods and ruffles the child’s hair before he shuffles down the hallway. Then Jinyoung is left with the child and more pressing silence.

“Yugyeom, right?” Jinyoung murmurs, sticking the plaster on. The box is nearly empty now. The child looks up—an acknowledgement, Jinyoung rejoices. “Would you like a drink?”

He maintains the eye-contact. If he doesn’t let up, maybe Yugyeom will respond. If Yugyeom understands, that is—maybe Yugyeom doesn’t. Where is Yugyeom even from? He cannot be Jaebeom's child. Jinyoung will not believe it. He cannot—it just cannot—

The boy shakes his head.

The sound of the shower starting echoes through the flat. Yugyeom whirls around, alarmed, until Jinyoung distracts him with a glass of milk and a plate of biscuits. Yugyeom looks at them, then at Jinyoung—then back to the floor. His stomach growls softly.

“These are for you,” Jinyoung says hesitantly; the boy’s own uncertainty seemingly passed to him, too. Jinyoung tries not to think about the bizarreness of the situation—that Yugyeom and him exist in different timelines of Jaebeom's life… That if Jinyoung were still there, Yugyeom wouldn’t be. It hurts to think about it; it hurts to think about it in any way. If he’d stayed, if he’d left, if… they’d never met. It hurts all the same.

“I’m Jinyoung,” he steadies his breath. Bends down; eyes the child with gentleness. The child is a victim, wherever he is from.

“I’m here to help you and Jaebeom, okay?”

Silence. The water in the shower stops.

Then—carefully, Yugyeom nods.

**Author's Note:**

> pjy: i don't see u for 4 years and u come back with a??? child???? what the FUCK jb


End file.
